


Defining a relationship

by iloveitblue



Series: Prompts [273]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tons of drama, its a complicated relationship, they need to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:03:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Clint's not sure exactly what they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defining a relationship

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 

It wasn’t like they were official. They never talked about it either, they just… sort of slipped into it. The domesticity that came with being together for so long, it was something that came naturally to the both of them. So if they had an unspoken agreement about their relationship then that was their business, not anyone else’s.

But the problem with that was that they had not agreed as to what actually this relationship was. 

It was a little frustrating.

Mostly, it was frustrating for Natasha because she got stuck with the job of defining their relationship for them. Which she isn’t even supposed to be thinking about because she. is. single. She didn’t have time for this shit. She has a world she has to save. 

Ugh, boys. 

“Look. Have you slept with him or not?” Natasha asked, pocketing her gun in her holster then moving to the other side of her quarters for the widow’s bite.

“No. we just made out a little. Or I kissed him.” Clint shook his head. “Or he kissed me. There was definitely tongue.” Clint explained from the bed. throwing a stress ball back and forth between his hands. 

“Then you’re not fuck buddies. You practically took out the most important part of that concept. ‘Fucking’, and since you’re not doing it, you’re not in a fuck buddy relationship with him. How is this hard to understand?” She put her widow’s bite on and tested them, the ends lit up a satisfying blue before she turned them back off.

“Yeah, but-”

Natasha sighed and she put her hands on her hips. “Look. You’re not fuck buddies, and you’re not in a relationship. Not in a defined one at least. I’m not sure what’s stopping you, because I would bet a year’s worth of my salary that Phil wants you just as bad as you want him. All you have to do is man up and ask the man suck your dick or fuck you into the mattress.”

“Tasha!” Clint said, faux-scandalized. “How practically indecent.”

“Says the man who narrated, in express detail, his fantasy of what he was going to do to Phil given the chance. I still can’t look him in the eyes, you know.”

“It’s not my fault your mind is in the gutter when you’re talking to  _my_ man.”

“Last I checked, he isn’t  _your_  man yet.” Natasha smirked at him.

“Ooh, burn.” Clint hissed.

“Which is why, you have to move along and define this ‘relationship’ you have with him, if it can even be called that.” Natasha gave emphasis to the word by adding air quotes to it and a particularly sassy tone.

“I know he likes me like I like him, which is nice because I’ve never even taken my shirt off which probably means he genuinely likes me as a person, right? but what if I do take my shirt off and he sees _everything_  and decides that he’s not interested. You’ve seen me. I’m disgusting. I’ve got scars older than my bow. I’ve got scars on my scars. I’ve got-”

“Clint.” Natasha cut him off and sat beside the archer. “In this business, everybody’s got scars. Even Phil. It’s not something you should be ashamed of. It’s proof that you could’ve given up but you fought your way through. that you won and you made it through another day. It’s not something you should be ashamed of.” 

Clint didn’t say anything, chose instead to stare at the stress ball in his hands. Natasha sighed and got up. She walked toward a drawer and dug something out. “If you really don’t want him seeing it, then use this.” She threw a tiny bottle at him and made her way to the door.

“What is it?”

“Concealer. I’m sure your carnie days taught you how to use that.” Natasha gave him a wink before she was out the door.

—

Phil wasn’t supposed to be at this bar. He wasn’t even supposed to know about this place but here he was, only a couple of feet away from Clint and looking as beautiful as ever even in the terribly lit room.

Natasha was right. He had to tell Phil how he truly felt and not just kiss him in hopes that he understood it. If he wanted a relationship with Phil, all he had to do was cross that few feet and tell him face to face what he thought of the man. Clint downed the rest of his drink and took a deep calming breath. This was now or never.

He got up from his seat and started to make his way towards Phil. There was nothing to worry about. Phil was going to say yes because he felt the same way. He was going to say yes because he loved Clint. He was going to say yes because- he’s smiling at another man?

Clint paused mid-step and watched as a man he’s never seen before approach Phil and pull him into a kiss. One where Phil wasn’t too eager to stop. 

Huh, so much for that plan.

Clint turned around to walk away, probably steal a giant bottle of whatever this bar’s strongest alcohol was to drink quietly back at his quarters, when he thought  _no._ This- He didn’t deserve to have his heart stomped on like this. Not after Phil kissed him. He’s not getting off that easy.

He marched straight toward the two men making out, and practically yanked the guy off of Phil before stepping between them and punching the guy on the nose with as much strength as he could. The guy fell on his butt with a satisfying thud and a bloody nose. 

“Clint!” Phil yelled. “What the hell!” 

Clint didn’t even look Phil’s way. Instead, he crouched down to face the guy and leered. “Stay. Away. From him.” He growled.

“He said he was single!” The guy argued, holding his probably broken nose.

Clint stood up and walked out of the bar, dragging Phil along with him. “Clint, Clint wait!” Phil tried to call out, but Clint was hearing none of it until they were out of this stupid bar. 

Once they were in the parking lot, Clint let go of Phil’s wrist and paced. “What were you doing? In there?” Clint asked, as calmly as he could, but it was kind of hard when all he was seeing was green.

“What did you think I was doing?” Phil asked back.

“Is this- Is this how you break up with people? You just throw them aside like yesterday’s trash and go find someone new? Is it that easy for you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Clint laughed hysterically. “And now you’re pretending that you don’t remember? Very mature, Agent Coulson.”

“What the hell did I do? You left me, remember that?” Phil asked, waving his hands frantically in the air.

“You led me on! Last I checked you were the one who kissed me.”

“And you were the one who broke away. You kept on muttering  _sorry, you can’t do this_. kept shaking your head like any moment you were going to throw up. How was I supposed to take that? as a compliment? Obviously it was a mistake to kiss you. You seemed so disgusted by that single kiss, and you don’t expect me to  _try_  and move on? How selfish are you?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Clint gritted out, shaking his head at Phil. 

“Then what did you mean? That I should just keep on pining for you like goddamn idiot, telling myself that I might have a chance with someone like  _you_? No. I’m done  _hurting_  myself. I’m done  _lying_  to myself. I’m done  _wishing_  that you’d look my way and give me a chance because I know that it’d never happen.” Phil’s jaw clenched, a reminder that he was still trying to keep himself from losing control.

“Phil I-”

“Clint, please. If you care for me at least as a friend, you’d let me move on. “ Phil turned away, hopefully Clint would let him leave without another word, because he isn’t sure what he was going to do if Clint said something-

“You didn’t need a chance.” Clint muttered. 

Something like that.

Phil paused, “What?” he asked before he turned around to face the archer once more.

“You didn’t need a chance. I was in love with you from the beginning. I didn’t even dare wish that I had a chance with you. You’re so perfect, I knew the moment that I met you, that you were  _way_  out of my league. I was happy just by being at your side. The morning coffees, the random banter; I was happy with it all.  _And then you kissed me_. You kissed me and I thought maybe this could go somewhere. That maybe what I was feeling wasn’t as one sided as I thought. But when you tried to- I wasn’t disgusted with you. I was afraid that you’d be disgusted with me. I was scared shitless that when you see all my scars, everything that I’ve been hiding… I was afraid you wouldn’t want me. So I pulled away. I was-”

“Clint-”

“And then you were kissing that man, and I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. If you want to move on, I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to run after you and try to ask you to give me one more chance. I’m going to walk away but I’m not going to promise that I’m moving on because Lord knows how hard that’s going to be. You don’t have to worry, I can still be professional at work, and I can-”

Phil shook his head, the ghost of a laugh on his lips. “God, you’re an idiot.” 

“I’m sorry?” Clint ducked his head.

Phil stepped closer to Clint, holding the archer’s cheek in his palm. “But that’s okay, seeing as how I’m also an idiot. I just told you that I loved you, in as many words as I could pour out in a single breath, and you offer to walk away. I hear you say you’ve loved me from the very start, and I call you an idiot when I should’ve just kissed you and asked you to let me stay.” He brought Clint’s head closer so that they were resting their foreheads together.

Clint smiled, and whispered,“Yes.” He held on to the hand cupping his cheek and breathed a sigh of relief. “Please, stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> YEesh. so much drama.
> 
> [Here on tumblr](http://promptmephlint.tumblr.com/post/125265461111/i-skipped-french-class-today-can-you-believe)
> 
> Comments are gifts to writers.


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